Here are some things I think Renaissance fantasy should emphasize to set itself apart from High Fantasy or medieval fantasy:
Different geographies: High Fantasy/Medieval fantasy tend to be set either in rural countrysides (following the pastoral tradition) or vast, untamed wilderness (following the Romantic), largely due to Tolkein’s anti-modern. The Renaissance very much was an era in which cities and commerce and finance were starting to become important, rather than just subsistence agriculture.
Different societies:
High Fantasy/Medieval fantasy hasn’t traditionally interrogated class particularly well, and so you tend to get idealized images of happy peasants, rightful kings, and brave knights. (It’s only in recent years with the rise of deconstructionist fantasy that we’ve started to question this stuff.) But in the Renaissance, you start to see merchant families and guilds not just exerting political influence, but outright running city-states.
Different politics: rather than just kings and lords, “you’ve got various forms of Republics, mercantile city-states, and petty princedoms, all of which gives much more scope for ordinary people to do important things.”
Different cultures: rather than an emphasis on the ancient and the eternal, there should be an emphasis on cultural change. “an explosion of knowledge, with a bubbling ferment of science, arts, literature, philosophy, history, political science, and a roster of geniuses whose human brilliance is much more appealing than the aloof [I think I was leaning towards alien or inhuman, without really putting my finger on it] other-ness of a Merlin.”
Cosmopolitanism: in part because of urbanism and in part because of increased trade, you have a lot more cultural diversity, so in my mind Renaissance Fantasy ought to involve a melange between many different cultures beyond Expies of white Europeans, with cities full of immigrant workers, foreign merchants and diplomats, imported goods and ideas, a sense that the city is part of a global network.
Hopefully, Renaissance fantasy should help us move beyond repetitions of the Return of theTrue King by way of the Hero’s Journey, and allow us to tell other kinds of stories.
Also firearms. Rapier in one hand and pistol in the other is just awesome.
Yes, although it depends what kind of firearms you’re talking about. Renaissance pistols were hand cannons, matchlocks, and wheelocks. Once you get into flintlocks, I feel like you’re firmly into the Early Modern period of muskeeters and pirates. Which is a great era for fantasy as well – I’m a huge fan of 7th Sea.
I think the heralds’ calculations would be a bit complicated:
The Starks are the oldest (although the Lannisters might dispute this), but they’re also First Men worshippers of the Old Gods who kept themselves apart from the South by force, so they’re a bit foreign. They’re also relatively poorer than their southron peers, which also counts against them a bit (remember Sansa thinking about Jory Cassel’s fashion during the Hand’s Tourney?).
The Lannisters are technically older than the Arryns, but only through the female line (although six thousand years in the male line isn’t anything to sneeze at), so I imagine that’s a point of dispute between those two houses. They’re also the richest, so to the extent that people care about magnificence, that would hold sway.
The Arryns are the most Andal of all the Great Houses – they are the rulers of the “promised land” that the Seven showed to the Andals, they even claim descent from Hugor of the Hill himself. So I would imagine that would hold more sway among the pious. (And it doesn’t hurt that they have close ties to the Targaryens as well.)
The Nymeros-Martells are relatively young, their royal claim only dating back to a thousand years (the Martell half goes back further, but like the Tyrells they didn’t claim kingship). Like the Starks, they are also a bit foreign because of their Rhoynish heritage, and because they held out against the Targaryens – although this is a relatively recent thing and wouldn’t have been an issue prior to 0 BC.
Prior to Robert, the Baratheons are a younger house whose claim to royalty comes either from the female line through Argella or through the various Targaryens who’ve married into the family (plus, there’s the whole thing about Orys being a bastard). On the other hand, the Targaryens somewhat reset the rules, discounting longevity in favor of proximity to the Old Blood of Valyria.
The Tyrells only have royal blood through the female line, and hold Highgarden due to the favor of Aegon the Conqueror when other houses have a better claim by blood. On the other hand, they rule the largest and most fertile kingdom in Westeros, and they put the most effort into putting on a chivalrous display, so that can’t be discounted.
The Tullys have no royal blood, and their kingdom is relatively weak although quite fertile and economically active, so those things balance out to put them somewhere in the middle.
The Greyjoys have a pretty ancient claim – the Grey King of the Age of Heroes and the most kingsmoot kings before the Greyirons took over. However, they haven’t been kings for six thousand years, and they rule over a small, poor kingdom of pirates.
Not exactly sure what you mean by “non-trash periodic issues,” but I’ll answer the first one.
As with any culture industry, fashions come and go in comics. Prior to 1938, you didn’t really have “superhero” comics per se. Then Superman was introduced in Action Comics #1, sold out a print run of 200,000 copies and in a matter of months was selling almost a million copies a month. Everyone else in the industry scrambled to produce their own superheroes to compete, and you get the Golden Age of superhero comics.
This lasted from 1938 through to the late 40s, especially during WWII when patriotic heroes like Captain America and Wonder Woman were punching Nazis. After the war, however, fashions changed. Superheroes became less popular, and instead romance comics, horror comics, crime comics, westerns, and sci-fi became the dominant trend in the medium.
This gave rise to a moral panic in the 1950s, although more accurately it was part of the larger moral panic over juvenile delinquency. The U.S Senate established a Juvenile Delinquency Subcommittee of the Judiciary Comittee in 1953 to investigate the causes of juvenile delinquency and comics became a major target. While Wertham’s book is best known today for its assertions that Batman and Robin were teaching young boys to be gay and Wonder Woman was teaching young girls to be lesbians, the main focus of the Subcommittee was on horror and crime comics for their depiction of sex, violence, and “subversive” attitudes to law and order.
Fearing Federal regulation, the major publishers established the Comics Code Authority, modeled on the Hays Code that Hollywood had adopted following a similar moral panic about the movies in the late 20s. The CCA’s code specifically banned depictions of sex and violence (among other things), and this basically drove horror comics, crime comics, and (to a lesser extent) romance comics out of business…leaving superheroes as the last genre standing.
Thus began the Silver Age of superhero comics, which started with the intrevitalization of D.C through the revamping of the Flash and Green Lantern and the creation of the Justice League, which brought all of D.C’s Big Three on the same book, but really got under way when Marvel introduced the Fantastic Four in 1961, Spiderman, Ant Man, Thor and the Hulk in 1962, the Wasp, Iron Man and the X-Men in 1963, and then brought all of their biggest heroes together in the Avengers in the same year. Just like happened after 1938, this wave of hugely successful superhero comics led other publishers to try to “follow the leader.”
And so it’s gone ever since: there are periods in which superhero comics wane in popularity or other genres become popular – when alternative or underground comics got big in the 60s and 70s, or the runaway success in the 90s of D.C’s Vertigo imprint which heavily featured British creators working in horror, fantasy, and sci-fi – and then periods where superhero comics surge.
That’s a great question! I have to admit, I don’t know the business side of manga at all, but I think you’re on to something.
Historically speaking, U.S comics were created on a “work for hire” basis in which creators are considered employees, and it’s the employer who has the copyright on their product – hence why titans of the field like Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster (the creators of Superman), Bill Finger (co-creator of Batman), and Jack Kirby (the creator of Marvel, pretty much) got no residuals and had no control over their creations.
This distribution of rights creates a tendency for the employer to avoid permanently getting rid of an intellectual property which they have the rights to as long as the property is still viewed as valuable.
This is a problem that crept into comics as a serial medium almost from the beginning, albeit very gradually – part of it is that IP is both potentially incredibly valuable and difficult to come up with on a monthly basis with consistent quality. Even for the best artists and writers, “villains of the month” vary enormously, and you can really tell when someone was scrambling to meet deadline and out of ideas so started looking around their desk for inspiration:
So rather than trying to knock it out of the park every month with a new villain, it’s a lot easier to have tried-and-true villains become recurring features, where the artist and writer can elaborate on proven concepts. The same phenomenon also happens on the hero side, especially in team books, where you have a much larger cast of characters. (I do not envy the people working on Legion of Super-Heroes, for ex.)
This intersects with changing trends in comics in weird ways. So first you have the emergence of the Comics Code Authority in the 50s, which among other things tones down on the violence rather substantially (Batman had already stopped killing people before it came into effect) so that killing characters becomes difficult for a long time, which in turn brings up this long-term tension as to why (if recurring villains keep escaping prison) heroes aren’t doing something more final. Then in the 80s and 90s, the aging of the first generation of comics fans and the desire by creators to prove that their medium wasn’t just for kids leads to people reaching for character death as a way to prove maturity…but the underlying dynamic is still there, so there’s inevitable pressure to bring characters back, which eventually gives rise to the revolving door of death, which desensitizes fans, and then you have an arms race towards grimdark as you need to find new sources of shock (DC for some reason went big into arms being cut off for the longest time).
One person who tried like hell to fight this and ultimately lost was Chris Claremont, who believes to this day that you have to let characters age and change and eventually end, because otherwise they’re not real people. Claremont wanted to replace the old model with one in which characters would die permanently (like Jean Grey) or quit being superheroes to start their own families (like Scott Summers). And when the status quo pushed back against what he was doing, you got realdamage to the characters.
So yeah, I think it’s a real problem, but not one without solutions.
One solution, which has become more common in the post-Image era where there’s a lot more creator-owned stuff, is to give creators the freedom to write beginnings, middles, and ends, because their control over the rights means that you don’t get IP-thirsty companies like DC and Marvel messing with good stories by doing things like having Watchmen prequels, sequels, and crossovers, or killing off and then resurrecting almost every damn hero out there.
Another solution, and this is one that I haven’t seen used as much, is to step away from strict chronological continuity and adopt instead what I’m going to call the Cimmerian Approach:
“Know, oh prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars – Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyberborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west. Hither came Conan the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet.”
Pulp magazines, as the direct ancestors of comic books, were also a serial medium in need of constant content that hit the same problem. And I think R.E Howard came up with a rather brilliant solution by telling the stories out of order. Conan’s story has a beginning, middle, and end as the first passage in “The Phoenix on the Sword” above indicates: he starts out as a barbarian who comes to the civilized kingdoms of the Hyborean Age, and he ends up King of Aquilonia as he is in “Phoenix.” But after that first story (actually the first to be published, he wrote “The Frost Giant’s Daughter” at the same time, but it was rejected) and “The Scarlet Citadel,” he went back and wrote “The Tower of the Elephant,” which depicts Conan as a young thief who’s only very recently come to the civilized kingdoms. And thereafter, Howard bounced around all over the place: Conan is in one story as a mercenary general, then a refugee from a different, defeated army, then a pirate captain, then an imprisoned thief, and so on and so forth.
What I like about this approach is that it allows you to do the natural human lifecycle/beginning-middle-end that Claremont tried to establish, while also allowing you to produce infinite content by inserting new incidents into earlier periods of their life.
@goodqueenaly could correct me on this, but I would say princely bastards being at court was far more the norm than not. Indeed, they could often be quite powerful noblemen due to their closeness to the sovereign: Henry Fitzroy, son of Henry VIII, was one of the richest landowners of his time thanks to his father’s largesse.
Hey folks! It’s that time of the week, and I’ve got a TON of good good Tumblr material for your delectation: ASOIAF: Mercy’s face. Roman bureaucracy and class. Encirclement and the Battle of Duskendale. Part II The “king’s grace” in Saxon law. How does Greywater Watch move? Part I Part II Followup on upward mobility. Hegemonic ideological power, the third face of power, and other highfalutin’…